


A Little Experiment

by roamingbee



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M, Not Beta Read, One Night Stands, Or Is It?, Patient of the Week, Season/Series 02, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 11:27:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30004170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roamingbee/pseuds/roamingbee
Summary: House and Wilson have a drunken one-night stand. Wilson freaks out. House deflects.
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place end of season 2, just after Wilson moved out of House's apartment. 
> 
> Contains strong language and explicit discussion of sex, but no actual sex scenes. 
> 
> I can promise this fic is as medically accurate as the show.

Wilson woke abruptly from a deep sleep-he was suddenly aware of two things. The room, which was not his own, was spinning. And, he needed to puke _now_.  
  
He bolted across the room, flung open the bathroom door, and emptied his stomach. He crouched miserably against the toilet, temporarily relieved. The cool tile behind him soothed his pounding head ever so slightly.  
  
To his left was a black basket full of toilet paper, which he had luckily managed to miss. This, along with the tiled divider and the rusty radiator meant that he was at House’s apartment.  
  
And he was naked.  
  
His recollection of the night before hit him harder than the hangover. The night had started with them getting horrendously drunk at some dive bar. House had lost a patient and Wilson had the bright idea to distract him with cheap beer. Back at the apartment, House had made some stupid joke about him needing to get laid. Drunk and too stubborn to back down from a challenge, he shoved House against a wall. A precarious kiss turned into a heated one. House’s calloused hands had traced over his skin, gently discarding his clothes along the way to his bedroom.  
  
Wilson would have blushed at the memory if he didn’t feel so queasy. A second wave of nausea washed over him and braced himself again. And again.  
  
Wilson tried to collect his thoughts as he laid back against the wall, trying not to dry heave. What the _fuck_ had he been thinking? He didn’t like men, for a start. And _House_? Their relationship was fucked up enough, adding sex into the mix is asking for disaster.  
  
He took a deep breath to steady himself. This was fine, friends have sex all the time. It doesn’t have to be anything more than a drunken mishap. Of course, House will probably remind him of it every day for the next 10 years.  
  
Wilson heard footsteps coming from the bedroom. He scrambled to make himself decent by throwing a towel over himself, not that it really made a difference. He clutched at the toilet as another wave of nausea hit. He could only manage to look up enough to see bare feet and blue pyjamas.  
  
“Damn, am I that bad of a lay?” House said as he ripped open what looked like a small alcohol wipe. He didn’t bother waiting for a reply before continuing, “Open up”  
  
“What is th-“ Wilson started, before House stuck the small film under his tongue. The touch was clinical, but the gentle press of House’s fingers on his chin rattled him. The film dissolved before Wilson had regained enough sense to spit it out.  
  
“Calm down, princess. It’s just ondansetron. No interaction with alcohol. Your precious liver is safe.” House said as he rolled his eyes. He stood back in the doorway with his arms crossed.  
  
Wilson’s nausea was rapidly fading away, but he still had to ask, “Where did you get ondansetron? You’re not going through chemo.”  
  
“As long as they’re less than schedule two, the pharmacy doesn’t give a crap what I take.” House smiled proudly.  
  
Wilson attempted to glare at him after that comment, but he was simply basking in the relief that he didn’t have to puke anymore. That stuff works fast. His head was still killing him, but that was more manageable.  
  
“Seriously, you look like crap. Take a shower and maybe I’ll share my Vicodin for your killer hangover.” House said bluntly and turned to leave, not bothering to close the door.  
  
Once Wilson was alone, he took a deep breath in to steady himself. House seemed…normal. Apart from the lay joke. But all things considered, this was looking good. A few jabs here and there, and they could go back to normalcy. At the very least, House didn’t seem disgusted, so it seems like their friendship is still intact.  
  
The water hitting his face was heavenly. His shoulders softened as he scrubbed away the grime of stale beer and sweat from last night. He was thankful his shampoo and soap were left after he moved out; he could at least smell like himself after last night.  
  
Wilson wrapped the towel around his waist and prayed that he still had a spare change of clothes somewhere around the apartment. He’d rather avoid going into work in the same clothes as the day before, with who knows what on them. Wilson started looking through an old drawer next to the couch when House poked his head out from the kitchen.  
  
“Bottom drawer, right hand side. Think you can handle eggs?” House eyed him cautiously.  
  
“Uh, yeah, I-I think I can stomach them.” Wilson stammered, acutely aware of the fact he was only in a towel. He grabbed his old clothes and quickly retreated to the bathroom.  
  
His blow dryer was nowhere to be found; knowing House it was probably in tiny pieces at the bottom of Carnegie Lake. He sighed as he looked into the mirror and tried to will himself to not look like he had 12 beers and 3 hours of sleep. He’d gotten through much worse in med school, he repeated to himself. What he absolutely was not prepared for is whatever awkward, morning-after conversation was waiting for him over breakfast. With _House_.  
  
Wilson dragged himself to the kitchen table, where he found scrambled eggs, a piece of toast, and a glass of something carbonated. He instantly recognized the too-sweet lemon smell. House knew he would refuse Vicodin, and made the effort to get him something for his hangover that wouldn’t trash his liver? Wilson took a wary sip and a small bite of toast. This was… too nice. While he was feeling marginally better, he could feel an uneasiness building in his stomach. And he didn’t think it was from the toast.  
  
“Damn, you still look like you’ve been hit by a bus. Your patients are going to think you have cancer.” House said as he plopped down across from him with a plate piled with sausage and eggs.  
  
So much for ‘too nice’. “Thanks, I was going for chemo chic. Shame I didn’t have time to shave my head.”  
  
“Poser. You could at least pretend to make an effort.”  
  
Wilson smiled, the apprehension in his stomach fading. “How are you not dying? You drank nearly as much I did.”  
  
“All that Vicodin keeps my liver well trained.” House grinned, “Also I may have had a tactical hurl after you passed out.”  
  
House pushed up the sleeves of his blue turtleneck as he dug into his breakfast. Wilson didn’t think he had been… fervent enough to warrant a turtleneck? Sure, House could just have happened to wear it. Wilson squinted at House’s neck as House started to cut into an egg. He noticed a small smirk forming on House’s lips and quickly became very interested in the shape of his toast.  
  
“Are you always so rabid when luring men into bed?” The corners of House’s eyes creased in amusement.  
  
Shit. That fading apprehension did a 180 into full blown panic. He was not mentally or physically prepared to deal with this conversation. Sarcasm seemed like the best course of action. “Oh yeah, I do this every Thursday night.”  
  
House paused and tilted his head slightly, “What- never?” House’s piercing eyes were suddenly fixated on him.  
  
Wilson tried to hold his gaze but failed. Wilson simply shook his head and shoved a forkful of egg into his suddenly very dry mouth. He gulped down the rest of the awful alka seltzer.  
  
“You’re lying.”  
  
“What makes do you think I’m lying??” Wilson demanded.  
  
“There is no way someone could be that good with zero experience.” House said matter-of-factly.  
  
Wilson’s cheeks flushed a splotchy crimson. Not to toot his own horn but he was… accustomed to praise the morning after but hearing it from House was just _bizarre_. He scrambled for some way to deflect. “So, what, you have ample experiences to compare it to then?”  
  
“Unlike you I didn’t waste my undergrad years studying.” House shrugged as he started to eat his eggs again.  
  
“Seriously?”  
  
“You had your cock up my ass less than-what, 6 hours ago? It shouldn’t come as a surprise.” House stated frankly, eyebrow raised.  
  
If Wilson was crimson before, he was now more of a beetroot color.  
  
“Oh this is going to be _fun_.” House said with a manic grin.  
  
“Look, I just want to get through today without dying, can you put the torture on hold?” Wilson pleaded, hands raised.  
  
“If you’re into that, sure.”  
  
“I think I’ll just die.” Wilson deadpanned as he folded his arms in front of him and rested his head on the table.  
  
“Come on Jimmy, buck up. Who will look after those poor bald kids if you die of a little hangover?” House said as he started clearing both their plates, making sure to make _just a little more_ noise than necessary.  
  
Wilson rubbed his eyes and groaned as he shuffled his way to the door. How could he have even thought for a second that House would let this go? House was revelling in the fact that he had gained endless ways to make him squirm. Even if he manages to avoid House’s relentless harassment, this was going to be a long, miserable day. House closed the door behind them and started making his way to his motorcycle.  
  
“There is no way I’m getting on that thing”  
  
“What, too gay for you?” House sneered.  
  
“If you think a bile and egg smoothie on your back is sexy?” Wilson asked.  
  
“Fine,“ House relented, “We’ll take the boring way.”  
  
***  
  
House started up the mustang and pulled out of the drive with a slight screech, _just_ enough to make Wilson’s head throb. He turned to stare out the window. The elephant in the room still hadn’t been addressed. Well, _properly_ addressed. House didn’t seem at all bothered by the events of last night; he seemed content to just throw out one-liners for the rest of their lives. But what did House actually think? Did he want to just forget last night too?  
  
Seems unlikely. Even behind all of his mocking, House actually did seem to… enjoy last night at the least. And then there’s the _slight_ surprise that House isn’t actually straight. So, did House want a friends with benefits sort of deal? House didn’t really do that. Did House want…more than that?  
  
Not a chance.  
  
House motioned to turn on the radio, but Wilson’s constant squirming made him pause. “Stop thinking so loudly. Out with it.” House sighed, not bothering to hide his annoyance.  
  
Wilson hesitated, but there was no point trying to deflect. Might as well just rip the band-aid off now. “So- what was last night then?”  
  
“We got drunk, did the horizontal tango, and then you puked all over my bathroom. Which you are cleaning up when we get back.”  
  
“House” Wilson sighed, exasperated beyond belief. Why should he have expected any different?  
  
“Whatever you want it to be Jimmy boy.” House shrugged, eyes never leaving the road.  
  
“That’s not an answer.”  
  
“It is an answer. You call the shots.” House retorted.  
  
Wilson opened his mouth to object, but hesitated. House was giving him an out. He would be an idiot not to take it.  
  
“I just want things to go back to normal.” Wilson mumbled.  
  
“Alright.” House shrugged.  
  
“Just… alright?” Wilson asked slowly, eyebrows contorted.  
  
“What, you get exactly what you want and then you _still_ aren’t happy?” House snapped.  
  
“I don’t know House.” Wilson blurted. He sighed, “I just-”  
  
“You just need to figure yourself out. I can smell the repression from here.” House said as he wrinkled his nose obnoxiously.  
  
“I am not-“Wilson started.  
  
“Yes you are, Mr. I-slept-with-a-man-but-I’m-still-definitely-straight.” House mocked.  
  
“I’m too hungover to be dealing with this right now.” Wilson muttered, exhausted.  
  
“You’re the one who asked the question.” House said pointedly.  
  
Wilson gave a deep sigh and gazed out the window. Of course House would be difficult. He was an idiot for not ignoring House the second they got into the car.


	2. Chapter 2

House had thought that if this is all he ever gets, it would be enough. It _had_ to be enough. He could leave it at one night and keep their friendship intact.  
  
He had been so wrong.  
  
It was like throwing kerosene on a smouldering fire.  
  
It wasn’t even the sex(which was _fucking_ incredible of course); it was that damn kiss that led to it. It was too soft to be simple drunken lust; it was too lingering to be mistaken as chaste. House was powerless to stop himself from taking just one more kiss.  
  
And that’s how he landed himself in this fucking mess.  
  
House stared intensely out the window as Wilson closed the car door and headed into the hospital without a word. House felt his thoughts drift back to their conversation.  
  
House had sometimes made jokes about Wilson being secretly gay or them sleeping together just to gauge Wilson’s reaction, hoping that he would see Wilson stumble or break eye contact or something. There was _nothing_ that gave him any inkling that Wilson would be interested. There was no point in dwelling on something that could never happen anyway, so he just figured after some time he would just get used to it and move on.  
  
Which of course never actually happened.  
  
House was completely blindsided from last night. Wilson was occasionally difficult to read, and a bit unpredictable. But this was... something else.  
  
He was startled back to the present by Cuddy tapping his car window, motioning for him to get to work.  
  
House rolled his eyes and made a rude gesture back. He popped a Vicodin and headed into the hospital with a muddled brain and not a shred of a plan.  
  
“Thirty-one-year-old male recently diagnosed with HIV presented to the ER two weeks ago with a severe cough, fever, and vomiting. CT of the chest showed a tree-in-bud pattern in the lungs. The ER did what they do best: gave him a Z-pack and sent him on his way. Patient actually started to get better, but now is coughing up blood and has a fever of 103.” Foreman announced as House limped into the room.  
  
“I didn’t come in with a raging hangover to diagnose TB.” House scoffed as he tapped his cane against the white board.  
  
“TB culture was negative, twice. And he has a negative skin test.” Cameron countered.  
  
House grimaced, “So- does he have the gay HIV or the druggie HIV?”  
  
Chase rolled his eyes, “No drug use, apparently ex-boyfriend cheated on him. And before you say everyone lies, drug screen was negative.”  
  
“I should just go back to bed, you guys already know what I’m going to say anyway.” House groaned as he started heading toward the door.  
  
“LP was negative for bacteria, fungus, and white cells. eGFR was low, but not low enough to indicate kidney failure. Patient had trachycardia, high LFT’s, and hypotension. He’s nearly in septic shock now.” Cameron rattled off.  
  
House paused, a medical mystery was far easier to deal with than trying to solve the thousand piece puzzle that was James Wilson. House grabbed the chart from Cameron’s hands, “Fine, I’ll bite, differentials?”  
  
“Could be a fungus, HIV patients are susceptible, and the azithromycin wouldn’t have affected it.” Chase suggested.  
  
“Doesn’t explain how the patient got better and then worse.” House fired back.  
  
“It could be a dimorphic fungus that he always had and it spread when the bacterial pneumonia was cured.” Cameron said.  
  
“He could’ve also picked up a resistant bacteria while he was here. ER cured the initial bacterial infection, but the azithromycin is doing nothing for whatever he has now.” Foreman added.  
  
“Doesn’t explain the vomiting or the liver enzymes.” House countered.  
  
“The patient is on 5 different medications for HIV, which are known to cause both vomiting and liver damage.” Foreman replied.  
  
House finished flipping through the chart and threw in on the table. “Patient is tanking fast, do a sputum culture and a bronch biopsy. As soon as you get a sample switch the azithromycin to vanco and start him on Fluconazole in case it’s fungal. And get another CT in case the ER screwed up.”  
  
The three ducklings stood up and started to leave, leaving House alone with his thoughts. Which he absolutely did not want to do.  
  
Of course Wilson was freaking out, he genuinely seemed to have no idea he was even attracted to men. The blow-drying and ironing should have given Wilson _some_ clue. But Wilson had always been terrible at being honest with himself about what he wanted-relationships, ties, pretty much everything.  
  
How the hell did he fall in love with such an oblivious idiot?  
  
House thought back to last night, how Wilson noticed he was upset and contrived a plan to stop him from wallowing, without prying or talking about his misdiagnosis. Those stupid puppy dog eyes dragged him to some bar he hated and he actually enjoyed himself. _No one_ did that.  
  
God, he’s such a sap.  
  
House began throwing the ball against the wall with his cane, face screwed in concentration. Is there any possible way for him not to screw this up?


	3. Chapter 3

“Good morning Dr. Wilson! Mr. Johnson just cancelled his 9am app-are you feeling ok?” The oncology receptionist’s eyebrows arched in genuine concern.  
  
“Yeah, sorry, bad case last night. Didn’t sleep much.” Nancy was new and didn’t seem to gossip with the nurses, so hopefully his half-truth would go unnoticed. “Did he reschedule? He needs his next CT by next Friday to start his next round of radiation.”  
  
“No, he didn’t reschedule. Mentioned something about looking into a naturopathic route.”  
  
Wilson sighed. He had been showing some side effects from the chemo-radio, but his tumour was nearly undetectable. “I’ll try talking to him and see if I can at least get him to come in to talk through different treatments. Thanks for keeping me up to date Nancy.”  
  
“Any time! Let me know if you need any help after your bad case last night! I could try to clear some of your afternoon appointments?”  
  
“No, no, I’ll be alright, at least it’s Friday, right?” Wilson said with a forced half smile.  
  
“Thank god!” Nancy said with a slight glint in her eyes and turned to head back toward reception.  
  
Wilson closed his office door with a sigh. All he wants is to curl up on the couch in the dark. How the hell is he supposed to manage today?  
  
He opens his diary and thankfully only has three appointments today, and no new patients. Two near the end of their Tamoxifen treatment and one just about to undergo brachy. All patients with fairly good survival, he can handle this. Hopefully as long as he delivers good news, his patients won’t really notice that he looks like shit.  
  
Wilson is nearly half-way through the joys of medical admin when he hears a knock at the door.  
  
“Morning! Do you have the budget with that new lung cancer test ready?” Cuddy asked as she walked into his office.  
  
“Uh, yeah, it’s around here somewhere.” Wilson starts looking through his several mounds of paperwork. He manages to find some God-awful report with pie charts and other nonsense that the board loves, and glances over to Cuddy to hand it to her.  
  
Cuddy eyes widen when she notices Wilson’s eye bags and starts to smirk, “Damn, rough night with House?”  
  
“What?? He told you??” Wilson half squeaked, half shouted.  
  
“Told me what?” Cuddy questioned. “I just assumed you two got up to your usual drunk shenanigans and fell into a lake or something.”  
  
Wilson let out a nervous chuckle, “Yeah, it was embarrassing. Got so drunk I passed out in a dumpster.”  
  
Cuddy’s eyes narrowed as she took in that obvious lie. “Wait-what did I say before? ‘Rough night with House?’ what could th-“ and then gasped, “You _slept_ with House???”  
  
“No!” Wilson started, but knew he had already lost, his face gave it all away. Cat was out of the bag and there was no putting it back in. “Can you just- keep your voice down, these walls are like paper.” Wilson mumbled.  
  
“Wha- How? _Why_?” Cuddy whispered.  
  
“I have no idea! We were drunk, then he insisted I needed to get laid, then I’m in his bed, then I’m puking in the bathroom, then he’s making eggs.” Wilson admitted to the floor, not able to bring himself to be exposed to Cuddy’s glare.  
  
“So what are you guys… dating now?”  
  
Wilson shot up(as did his eyebrows) and started pacing around the room. “Oh god no, we’re not… dating. It was just a one night mishap.”  
  
“Wait, wait. House made you eggs? What else did he do this morning?”  
  
“Dunno, gave me ondansetron when I was puking, and then some Blowfish with the eggs.” Wilson shrugged. “Drove just fast enough to make my stomach churn, the bastard.”  
  
Cuddy’s gaze softened, almost like she was explaining something complicated to a very young child. “Wilson, House never does anything for anyone. He will avoid having to care at all costs. You’re saying he _made you breakfast_ and took care of you when you were sick? The poor thing sounds like a lovesick puppy.” Cuddy smirked.  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous. He was an ass like he always is. Slamming the door to make my hangover worse, saying I look like shit-“ Wilson retorted.  
  
“You know as well as I do that’s just what House is like. Have you guys actually talked about this or are you both being dense as-“  
  
“Of course we talked about it! And agreed that it was just a lapse in judgment and we’ll just go back to normal.” Wilson said with resolution.  
  
“Was that your idea or his?” Cuddy countered.  
  
“I mean it was mine but he said it was fine.” Wilson trailed off, voice softening toward the end.  
  
“He said it was _fine_. Really, you bought that?” Cuddy stated pointedly.  
  
“I don’t know! I am still trying to just process what the hell happened last night. I feel like death, and deciphering House’s feelings requires at least a full night’s sleep and a couple amphetamines.”  
  
“Well I’m telling you there’s not much to decipher. At least on his end.” Cuddy said simply.  
  
Wilson didn’t know how to respond to that. He settled for slumping back down and massaging his temples.  
  
Cuddy slowly moved beside Wilson and gently put her hands on Wilson’s shoulders. “Look James, I’m not saying to go for it. House is an absolute nightmare on the best of days, I’m fully aware of that. But you two just… harmonize. I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand it, but when I see the two of you together, you are more yourself than I’ve ever seen you with your wives.”  
  
“He’s my best friend.” Wilson shook his head, eyes glued to the floor.  
  
Cuddy gave Wilson a small smile. “And he’s giving you the choice to remain that way. I would never describe House as self-sacrificing, but he still surprises me.” Cuddy paused, “Just take a good look at yourself, especially your drunk self, and figure out why you are in this situation to begin with. Because it doesn’t sound like this was 100% House.”  
  
Wilson slowly nodded, still very concerned with the slightly warped corner of his desk.  
  
Cuddy gave Wilson’s shoulder’s a small squeeze, and turned toward the door as she looked through Wilson’s report. “This is perfect, the board will love this! When is your last appointment?”  
  
“3pm, just taking a patient off Tamoxifen.”  
  
“Sure, go home after that. You need the rest.” Cuddy praised as she closed the door behind her.  
  
Wilson sighed as he tried to massage his thoughts out of his brain. He tried going back to his paperwork, but he couldn’t concentrate at all.  
  
Wilson sighed as he got up and made his way to the cafeteria for a coffee to clear his head.


	4. Chapter 4

House spent the next two hours in the clinic, hoping sniffles and headaches would help him avoid thinking about the potentially destroyed friendship looming in the back of his brain. His team caught him just as he was handing back the file of the fourth cold of the day.  
  
“If all of you want prostate exams, you’ll have to wait in line.” House said, snapping his gloves off dramatically into the garbage.  
  
“Are you… actually doing clinic duty? Are you feeling ok?” Cameron said, big doe eyes on full alert.  
  
“Cuddy said if I do 10 hours this week she’ll wear that tight red skirt all next week.” House said brightly.  
  
Cameron sighed, “Bronch biopsy showed both gram positive bacteria and fungus.”  
  
Chase started, “The vanco and fluconazole should be helping but they aren’t at all. It’ll take at least 48 hours for susceptibility results and I don’t think the patient has that much time.”  
  
“Drop the vanco and start him on linezolid. What about the CT?” House barked.  
  
“Progression of the lung opacities, hilar and mediastinal lymph nodes are a bit larger. Nothing else really significant.” Foreman replied.  
  
“Are the lung opacities mostly airway or vascular?” House questioned.  
  
“Airway. Guy can barely get a breath in and he’s already on oxygen.” Foreman stated.  
  
“Right people, ideas?”  
  
“Could be CMV, HIV patients are more likely to succumb to the infection, and it can cause a similar lung pattern to TB.” Chase began.  
  
“A primary pulmonary lymphoma would explain the lymph node enlargement and the lung opacities.” Cameron added.  
  
“Get the CMV PCR started, that’ll take a couple of hours. And-,” House grabs the film of the chest CT, “That doesn’t really look like lymphoma. We’ll see in the next few hours if the guy responds to the new antibiotics anyway.”  
  
“Uh, maybe you’d want to consult Wilson?” Foreman prodded.  
  
House looked up and paused, “Mommy and daddy are having a little fight, but we still love you all very, very much.” House finished earnestly.  
  
Foreman rolled his eyes, “Seriously, this patient doesn’t have time for your personal issues to get in the way. This could very well be an atypical lymphoma, we need the opinion of an _oncologist_. And since you’ve managed to piss off every single one in this hospital besides Wilson, you’re going to have to bite the bullet and figure something out.”  
  
“I guess I’ll play nice for those child support payments.” House scoffed as he turned away and headed toward the oncology unit, not that he expected to find Wilson there.  
  
Wilson probably wanted nothing to do with him after last night. But here he was… pushing again.  
  
Not that he really had a choice, but it still made him uneasy. House knew there was only so much he could control himself without trying to convince Wilson to crawl back into bed with him.  
  
House peaked by Wilson’s office, but no sign of Wilson. He’s probably still exhausted, maybe he went to get coffee. They would sometimes meet in the mornings in the old X-Ray tech room, no one ever went in there and it had a strong cable signal.  
  
But Wilson probably wouldn’t be there, because he would most likely be avoiding House. Still, better to eliminate the usual spots first.  
  
House peaked his head into the old X-Ray room, and to his surprise he found Wilson leaning back in a chair, nursing his coffee.  
  
Wilson gave him a nod of acknowledgement; there were no signs of hatred or overt affection. Damn Wilson and his perfect, unreadable face.  
  
“What, no coffee for me?” House said as he entered the room. Normally, he would just take the cup out of Wilson’s hands and have a gulp, but now things are… different. His usual flirting with Wilson will now be seen as _real_ flirting.  
  
If Wilson noticed his hesitation, he didn’t comment on it. Wilson reached over to grab a second coffee from behind the desk, rolling his eyes.  
  
Wilson grasped the rim like a claw as he handed the coffee over to House. House accepted the precarious peace offering as he grabbed the coffee cup, careful to avoid Wilson’s fingers. Well, his balance wasn’t great, so he _may_ have accidentally brushed Wilson’s thumb. Plausible deniability and all that.  
  
“Thanks sweet cheeks.” House said cheerily. Flirting with Wilson was just second nature at this point, he couldn’t seem to turn it off.  
  
Wilson sighed, “What do you want House?” As if he wasn’t waiting in one of their usual spots. And brought House coffee.  
  
House threw up his hands, “Don’t worry, strictly professional. Scout’s honor.”  
  
“Why don’t I believe you?” Wilson grumbled.  
  
“I have a real case-look, there’s even a CT!” House said as he thrust the film into Wilson’s open hand. “Although I suppose that could be anyone’s CT. Any excuse to force you to stare into a bright light.”  
  
Wilson glared at him as he put the CT into the back-lit display on the wall, “Well it’s not lymphoma-nodes are too small and the echotexture is smooth.”  
  
“See I knew that, but Foreman called me an idiot. It’s either some superbug pneumonia or CMV. Could go both ways.” House said, eyes twinkled in amusement.  
  
“Well it’s not pneumonia because the pattern is all wrong.” Wilson insisted, eyes refusing to leave the CT.  
  
“Sure, he could’ve had CMV his whole life, but what’s a little VRSA to bring a bit of spice in your life?” House wiggled his eyebrows.  
  
“Did you seriously just compare men to a deadly, antibiotic resistant bacteria?“ Wilson chuckled incredulously.  
  
“Look, I’m just saying, just because you aren’t aware of something, doesn’t mean it wasn’t there the whole time” House’s voice trailed off, staring intently at the CT.  
  
“Look, I told you I just don’t want to t- You’ve just figured out your case, haven’t you?” Wilson said, dismayed.  
  
“Yup!” House popped the ‘p’ as he spun around, leaving a bewildered Wilson behind. He rushed to the lab where his team should still be running the CMV test.  
  
House burst through the glass doors of the lab and smacked the top of a machine, “Look at this shiny new molecular TB test. Shame it’s not being used, grab one of the patient’s serum tubes and try this baby out.”  
  
“He had two negative cultures _and_ a negative skin test, what makes you think a fourth test will give you the result you want?” Chase rebuked.  
  
House paused for a moment, “Think of it as a little experiment in trusting certainty.”


	5. Chapter 5

Wilson had made his way back to his office, frankly accustomed to House leaving mid-conversation when he had figured out a case.  
  
Wilson told himself that he had bought House a coffee out of habit really. But, if he was being honest with himself, he had _wanted_ to see House. While he felt a bit of apprehension when House stepped into the X-Ray room, that dread turned into anticipation. And that was… dangerous.  
  
_‘You are more yourself than I’ve ever seen you with your wives’_  
  
Wilson thought back to last night, and the moment he kissed House. It had felt… incredible. Before he leaned in, he thought he would just be fucking with House, something to just throw House off his game. But when he pressed his lips on House’s, it was like something inside him had broken open and he just… relished in the kiss.  
  
But he knew he couldn’t keep up his façade of ‘just fucking with House’ so he pulled back, only to have House follow his lips back. And the feel of House pressing back, of House’ hand on his neck bringing him in closer… it was too much.  
  
It was terrifying to be wanted by House.  
  
Wilson was taken aback with the sheer intensity that House touched him; House’s hands were strong and _relentless_. House’s usual composure had melted away, and Wilson couldn’t help but be overwhelmed from the crushing look of lust and weakness.  
  
It was exhilarating, it was daunting, it was so, so captivating.  
  
And Wilson _loved_ it.  
  
But did he want a relationship with House? Did he want lover’s spats and jealousy when he looked at nurses and over the top pranks?  
  
He had no idea. Was it worth risking their friendship?  
  
They needed to have an _actual adult conversation._  
  
Wilson sighed, curing cancer would be easier. The afternoon seemed to drag on. After he wrapped up his last patient’s treatment, he leaned back in his chair. He seriously considered Cuddy’s offer about leaving early, normally he would press on, but he was just completely drained from today. All he wanted to do was curl up with some Thai food and watch General Hospital.  
  
It was, of course, at that moment, that House hopped over the balcony wall that separated their offices and burst through the glass doors. House threw himself down on his couch with exaggerated carelessness.  
  
Wilson squinted his eyes and twisted his head slightly to the side, “I assume the smug look is your way of saying thank you for solving your case for you.”  
  
Wilson was met with a dramatic eye roll, “It _was_ TB. TB is a bitch to grow in the lab, half the time it just doesn’t want to grow-that’s why the culture was negative. The skin test was negative because AIDS completely torched his immune system, so there was nothing to turn the skin test positive.”  
  
“Huh, that is something else. I’m still claiming 50% of the credit for this case though.” Wilson chuckled as he plopped down next to House.  
  
“By doing what exactly?”  
  
“Well, if you weren’t so focused on trying to get back into bed with me, you would’ve never had your epiphany.” Wilson said bluntly.  
  
“Don’t flatter yourself. I simply cannot stand by and watch someone lie to themselves as much as you do”  
  
“Oh that’s rich coming from you.” Wilson mocked.  
  
“I told you the truth-I messed around in college, so what?” House said, puzzled.  
  
“No-you told the most spoken lie in all of human history-it’s alright.” Wilson explained.  
  
House’s eyes darted to the left, clearly trying to recall what he said this morning. His eyes widened in alarm, and then quickly recovered with a guarded expression. “That’s because it _is_ fine.”  
  
“Obviously it’s not fine House. So what you do really want?”  
  
“I _said_ whatever you want. Did your hangover make you deaf too?” House said sharply, jaw clenched.  
  
Wilson ignored House’s reply, instead he simply maintained his gaze.  
  
House’s eye darted around the room that a trapped cat. House gripped his cane and shifted his weight like he was about to get up, but Wilson grabbed the middle of his cane and jerked it closer to him. House scowled as he gripped his cane tighter, he held Wilson’s gaze in defiance.  
  
“Sure, trap the poor cripple” House snapped. Wilson became aware that their shoulders were touching, and he was close enough to House that he could see every worry line, every bit of scruff. House’s fierce gaze betrayed him, instead of fury or intimidation, all Wilson could see was fear.  
  
“House, you can’t just run away from this.” Wilson said gently. “What do you want?” Wilson repeated as he brought his other hand to House’s jugular vein.  
  
House finally faltered and looked away. Wilson felt House’s pulse jump beneath his fingertips. Wilson felt a tightness in his chest; his stomach flipped. Wilson tried to recover by rubbing loose circles along House’s jawline.  
  
“Greg” Wilson whispered.  
  
House turned to meet Wilson’s gaze. He still looked terrified, but there was a kind of softness there that made Wilson’s heart jump. Wilson stalled his fingers on House’s jaw to slowly pull House closer.  
  
They were inches apart, House’s lips were slightly parted. He could feel House’s breath mix with his. Wilson’s eye’s flickered back up to take in just how wrecked House looked. Cuddy was right. Despite his best efforts, the weakness in House’s eyes was as clear as day. Like he was trusting Wilson with more than his life. Wilson was overcome with fondness- _how could he have missed this?_  
  
Time slowed as Wilson leaned forward to close the gap between them, lips softly pressing against House’s dry parted lips. He felt House take in a sharp breath, heart hammering even faster beneath his fingertips. House’s tension slowly unwound as he finally pressed back into the kiss. House’s rough hands cautiously cupped his neck. House’s shaky touch broke open something in Wilson-he had never felt so intensely _loved_. Wilson’s hesitation melted away as he pulled House closer. As soon as he responded to deepen the kiss, House reached his thumb to Wilson’s chin, pulling away. Wilson watched as House’s eyes slowly drag up from his lips. Wilson was shocked to find his face contorted in pain.  
  
There was a pause as House let out a sharp exhale-  
  
“This won’t work.”  
  
House’s voice broke; his face hardened.  
  
Wilson felt his heart drop-for a second there, _for once in his fucking life_ , everything felt right. It was like everything was settling into place with that kiss, a promise of more to come. But House couldn’t help but to shatter their small moment of happiness with some self-sacrificing _bullshit_. Wilson shoved House’s cane aside and stood up, hands on hips. “House are you-I was happy for two sec- Is this about you needing to be miserable every second of your life??” he snapped.  
  
House kept his eyes staring straight at the wall in front of him, hunched forward, chin resting on his hands.  
  
“Well?” Wilson demanded.  
  
House considered his words carefully, “No, I want to avoid being miserable. One of us will fuck this up, even you can see that. And…” House took a deep breath in, steadying his voice, “Then I lose my best friend. I wasn’t lying when I said it was fine. It’s the only way out of this.” House leaned back in finality.  
  
Wilson wanted to scream, _‘But I need to kiss you again. I want to wake up next to you again. Because I think I’ve always been a little in lo-‘_ Wilson’s brain came screeching to a halt. He thought back to the nights spent getting drunk on House’s sofa, listening to House mindlessly putter away at the piano-it was like the world outside stopped for just a few hours. He _lived_ for those nights.  
  
But maybe House was right. House was Wilson’s rock as much as Wilson was House’s. When he couldn’t face spending Christmas with his wife-he had House. When his marriage fell apart and he needed somewhere to go-House was there. Ok, maybe with a few pranks and grumbling about his hairdryer. But House was there for him, in his own, eccentric way. Maybe House had a point. Wilson didn’t have the best track record with relationships, hell, House probably has had healthier romantic relationships than he ever had. Did he want to risk his best friend?  
  
Wilson gave House a measured expression and sighed as he plopped back down on the couch, head in his hands. He gave a sad laugh, “You’re probably right.”  
  
House sighed and looked up to the ceiling. “So what now?”  
  
“Dunno,” Wilson paused, “We should probably just do what we always do-get Thai food and not talk about it.”  
  
House gave a low chuckle as he shook his head. “Well, come on then.”  
  
Wilson couldn’t help but notice the way House’s jeans clung to his ass as he made his way to the door. _‘It’s better this way’_ Wilson repeated to himself as he desperately tried to stop his thoughts turning…carnal . Was it actually possible to put the cat back in the bag?


	6. Chapter 6

It physically pained House to say those words. But it was the truth. As much as he wanted Wilson, they were simply too unstable to last. Wilson would cheat, House would take too many Vicodin, House would go too far with a prank and then that would be it. No more stealing Wilson’s lunch, no more monster trucks, no more nights spent on the couch watching reruns and drinking beer. He couldn’t risk losing that.  
  
House grunted as his leg spasmed trying to get out of the car. Wilson had already gone into the apartment, the drive was just as awkward as he expected. _‘This is for the best’_ House muttered to himself as he massaged his leg. After a week or two of awkwardness, they would get over this hump and things would go back to normal. They had no other choice, after all.  
  
Wilson didn’t even think they could work. Hell, Wilson wasn’t even sure if he was attracted to men at all, how could House even expect a whole damn relationship to work? Wilson probably just kissed him because that’s just _what he does_ in a crisis. He sees a needy, distressed person and can’t help but reassure them by kissing them.  
  
The rejection hit House like a slap on the face as he leaned on the doorway into his apartment. He rubbed his thumb up and down his temples, trying to regain his composure. It doesn’t matter-they could never work anyway, so what did it matter _why_ Wilson kissed him?  
  
House reached for another Vicodin as his leg spasmed again. He gritted his teeth and made his way through the doorway, trying to avoid thinking about the uncomfortable evening ahead of him. House hung up his jacket and plopped down on the couch. Wilson came back with two cold beers and handed one silently to House as he turned on the TV. They were both acutely aware not to let their hands touch. At least Wilson had the foresight to drink away their nerves.  
  
House turned to look at Wilson. How _could_ they go back to what they were before? If House was only pining before it would be impossible now to stop his thoughts from drifting to how gentle Wilson’s lips were, how decidedly _not_ gentle his hips were.  
  
“Stop looking at me like that or your plan will never work.” Wilson muttered.  
  
“How am I _looking_ at you wrong?”  
  
“You look… like you want to jump me again and it’s distracting” Wilson’s eyes glancing over from this week’s General Hospital.  
  
“I’ve always looked at you like that, you were just too stupid to notice. Turn off your other brain cell and get back to not noticing” House snapped.  
  
“Woah, woah, woah. _Always?_ What do yo-“  
  
“Calm down, I’m just messing with you.”  
  
“I don’t think you are. ”Wilson smiled sadly. Before House could think of a clever response, Wilson jumped onto House’s lap, knocking his cane onto the floor. House could feel the weight of Wilson’s thighs on his, but Wilson was slightly shifted to the left as to not put any pressure on his bad leg. Ever so considerate even when trapping him.  
  
Wilson placed his hands on either side of House’s head, “ _You_ need to stop torturing yourself. So maybe we fuck this up. But our friendship has survived much worse than sex. Maybe there’s a reason our friendship has lasted so long. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance that whatever this is works.”  
  
“That’s just your saviour complex talking.”  
  
“Is _that_ what this is about? You think I’m just horny for your neediness?” Wilson scoffed, “For a self-proclaimed genius you really are an idiot. Do you think I wanted to kiss you out of _pity_?”  
  
“Well your track record says otherwise…”  
  
Wilson narrowed his eyes, “Look House, for God knows what reason, I want _you_. Maybe it took me a bit longer to pull my head out of my ass, but all I know is that sitting here watching bad hospital soaps with you is exactly where I feel… happy. I can be my true, downright awful self with you and somehow you still look at me like that.” Wilson’s eyes softened as he brushed a stray hair on the side of House’s forehead.  
  
House felt a warmth spread from his chest to his stomach. He looked away from Wilson’s puppy dog eyes- they were too much for House to handle. _This stupid bastard is the biggest sap he’s ever met._ But there is absolutely no chance House can pull away-Wilson is in _his lap_ saying he wants him. “It is _very_ hard to think straight with you in my lap like this.”  
  
Wilson chuckled softly, “Then don’t.”  
  
Fuck Wilson and his stupidly soft hair and frankly obscene doe eyes.  
  
_This is a bad idea._ House repeated the phrase over in his head, but his hand seemed to ignore him. He cupped Wilson’s hair, brushed the lobe of his ear, and trailed his fingers along Wilson’s jaw.  
  
But Wilson was earnest(well, more stubborn than anything). He wasn’t moving. Wilson was leaving it up to House, to let him decide if it was worth it.  
  
But House couldn’t bring himself to pull away, not with Wilson looking at him like that. House felt a flurry spread in his stomach as he took in the open affection apparent on Wilson’s face. Even with all of the self-control in the world, House was far too gone to stop himself from leaning forward and gently pressing his lips against Wilson’s.  
  
Wilson softened and leaned into the kiss, cupping the back on House’s neck. The kiss was slow and indulgent-making up for the messy, drunken ones from the night before. Wilson began rubbing small circles on House’s earlobe, lips becoming more pliable. House exhaled sharply and took this natural opportunity to deepen the kiss-only for Wilson to pull back.  
  
“Was that so bad?” Wilson murmured, lips forming into a cheeky grin.  
  
“Well stopping certainly was-“ House said as he leaned forward to continue their kiss. Wilson stalled him by running his thumb over House’s lips.  
  
Wilson eyebrows raised in amusement, “House, I still have the hangover of the decade and I’m old.” Wilson deadpanned, ”There is no way I can manage sex again.”  
  
“Who said anything about sex? We can just cuddle.” House started earnestly, “Preferably naked. _And_ preferably with your co-“  
  
“House.” Wilson chucked and rolled his eyes. He pressed a tender kiss to House’s temple, and then moved toward House’s ear.  
  
“How about I wake you up with a blowjob to make up for my terrible manners today?” Wilson whispered brazenly.  
  
House’s eyebrows shot straight up, and floundered back a bit in surprise.  
  
Wilson’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “What, too much?”  
  
House was positively beaming when he pulled Wilson in for a light peck, “I can’t believe I ever thought this was a bad idea.” House said incredulously.  
  
Wilson grinned as House pulled him in for one more kiss. “Can I order the Thai food now? I am absolutely _starving._ ” Wilson groaned.  
  
“Fine, you’re paying.” House countered.  
  
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”


End file.
